


Silver Lining

by Amatara, laughingpineapple



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Dating, Fluff, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, fic + art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 15:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10221848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amatara/pseuds/Amatara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple/pseuds/laughingpineapple
Summary: Albert has a headache. Cooper wants to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A quick ficlet inspired by [laughingpineapple](http://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple)'s [adorable drawing](http://laughingpinecone.tumblr.com/post/158210521027/amatara-being-albert-rosenfield-is-suffering-but).

“All set, Albert? I booked us a table at that new French place, they do fantastic fish dishes and the _tarte tatin_ is to die for, you’re gonna love -”

Cooper burst through the front door the second it opened, an immaculately dressed whirlwind of nervous energy and charm. For a second, Albert was tempted to tell him to wait on the doorstep. He’d just gotten back from the lab, had barely had time to change into a clean suit, and Cooper at his most intense could be a handful on the best of days. Which tonight definitely wasn’t. Albert had come home with a headache the size of Alaska, and his dinner date with Cooper would be a one-way trip to Calamityville if he went into it unmedicated. Even now, his skull was pounding with Cooper’s every fervor-soaked word.

“Yeah, give me a minute. Just let yourself in, I’ll be right there.” Albert turned and started to head for the kitchen, where a trusted bottle of Advil stood tucked away on a shelf. He was stopped by a hand on his elbow, Cooper tugging him back with a frown.

It took less than ten seconds of Cooper holding his gaze before Albert had to look away.

“You’re not well,” Cooper said. It didn’t sound like a question.

Albert shook his head, which wasn’t the smartest move to make, but he gritted his teeth and managed a glare. “Cooper, we’re running late. We’ve rescheduled this thing a dozen times already, so let’s keep this debate for when it’s useful, okay? I just need to get -”

“You’re sweating. Pupils dilated. Just now, you flinched while you were shaking your head.” Cooper’s fingers lingered on his forearm, curling into the fabric of his sleeve. His voice was soft, not a word emphasized above the other, but unwavering in its firmness. “I know you get migraines, Albert. I’m assuming this isn’t one, or we wouldn't be standing here discussing it, so… tension headache? Still bad enough, from what I can see.”

“You’re a special agent, not a doctor,” Albert snapped. Would Cooper recognize a Star Trek reference when it stared him in the face? Apparently not. “So lay off the diagnoses, will you? It’s nowhere near that bad.”

“But you do have a headache.” Cooper’s eyes narrowed. Something odd and brittle had crept into his tone, and Albert would’ve rolled his eyes if he hadn’t been so sure he’d regret it instantly.

“Yes.” Best to give Cooper what he wanted, if there was a chance that would shut him up. This whole discussion wasn’t helping; if anything, Albert now wanted that Advil more than before. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Just give me ten seconds to take something for it, then we can get outta here. They’ll give our table away if we don’t hurry. Wouldn’t want you to miss that _tarte tatin_."

Albert took a step back, forcing Cooper to either let go of his arm or awkwardly shuffle along with him. Cooper went with the former, but he had that look on his face that meant he wasn’t handing in the towel yet. “No,” he said softly.

Albert blinked. “What do you mean, _no_?”

“There are plenty of baked goods in this world, Albert, and ample opportunities to enjoy them; I won’t prioritize this one above your health.” Oh, crap. And now Cooper sounded like he’d reached some decision, which definitely didn’t bode well. 

“Cooper…”

“Do you trust me?”

That was enough of a non-sequitur that Albert forgot to be sarcastic for the next couple of seconds. “Yeah,” he said, feebly. “Of course I trust you, but what does that have to do with…”

“Then will you sit down? Please.”

If _‘do you trust me’_ wasn’t fighting fair, the whispered _'please’_ was even worse, and Albert found his feet carrying him towards the couch before the rational part of his brain could intervene. He lowered himself into it, squeezing his eyes shut when Cooper followed suit, then looped an arm around Albert’s chest.

“Coop…” he tried again, but was distracted by Cooper’s breath against his neck, his other hand cupping the side of Albert’s jaw.

“I know what I’m doing, Albert. I just want to try something. Here, lie down.” Cooper’s palm found the small of his back, pressing forward with just enough force that Albert had no choice except follow his cue. He flopped down onto his belly, propping his chin on his arms. “There we go. Now, relax and keep your eyes shut.”

Albert was mustering a last-ditch retort - Cooper had said to shut his eyes, after all, not his mouth - when a pair of hands closed around his scalp, and all the air he’d just sucked down came stuttering out in a low, desperate sigh.

“Shh.” Cooper’s voice was - not _sultry_ , surely, Albert had to be imagining that, but the depth of tenderness it held left little enough to the imagination. Warm fingers dragged across his temples, applying gentle pressure: tight, rhythmic circles in time with his heartbeat, squeezing down the pain. It felt good, better than it had any right to, and Albert tucked his face into the crook of his elbow, trying not to do something embarrassing like groan in relief. “Albert?” That was Cooper, sounding alarmed. “If I’m hurting you, please tell me.”

“No, it’s…” Ah, damn. Now he was getting dizzy, but his headache had actually faded a little. “Where…” His voice was raspy. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“My mother got migraines,” Cooper said. “I was the only one she trusted to make it better, not worse.” The wistfulness to Cooper’s tone told Albert not to push for details. Instead he just nodded, reaching for a pillow in which to hide his face. Not missing a beat, Cooper’s fingers drifted towards the back of his head, kneading gently.

“Coop. About dinner…”

“I’ll call the restaurant, tell them we’re not coming. We can stay here instead. I can order in.” One of those roaming hands paused to stroke Albert’s scalp. “Unless you’d be more comfortable by yourself, in which case of course I’d respect your privacy.”

“You would, huh? Leave me to suffer in solitude if I asked?” Somehow, Albert managed to put a smile into his voice. “Nah. Like I said. I trust you.” And knew him, too, so he didn’t have to see Cooper’s face to be able to tell he was smiling back.

*


End file.
